


What Doesn't Kill You

by grimcognito



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of more angsty ficlets to go along with my fluff series, It's Called Dating. All based around Connor/Oliver. </p><p>Canon-AU since not all of the stories will follow with the show's plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Doesn't Kill You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I've been getting quite a few prompts for more angsty ficlets. Please note that this is not what I prefer to write. There will be plenty of drama and angst on the show, and I write fluffy fix-it AUs as an escape from that. That said, any of the angstier fics will go here, just don't expect it to update nearly as fast. Thank you!

When there’s nothing left to do but go their separate ways for the night and pray for life to go on as normal as it can, Connor finds himself driving aimlessly, unable to bring himself to go home just yet. His mind is oddly blank, maybe some sort of delayed shock, some sense of horror at what happened that kep him from acknowledging it for the moment. No matter what it is, he finds himself parked outside of an apartment building with no real memory of getting there. 

Feeling hollow and distant, he walks through the lobby, numbly presses the fourth floor button and stares at the chipped paint of the doors until they reopen. Vaguely surprised that he isn’t stumbling, nothing more dramatic than walking in a straight line down the hall, he arrives in front of 303 and knocks before he can even think about it. 

No answer.

Twenty minutes and several tries later, Connor slumps to the ground, back to Oliver’s door and stares at his phone, unable to quite work up the nerve to call him. What is he even doing here, he wonders, what fucking good would it do? It’s not something he can tell, and sure as fuck isn’t something Oliver can help with. No ‘it’s okay’ or forgiving hugs can fix this. And Oliver doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this, for Connor to wreck his life as well as his own. 

He should leave, before Oliver gets back. 

He stays. He stays when an elderly woman stares at him warily as she edges past to her own apartment, stays and stares at the wall until the elevator dings again and suddenly Oliver is there, humming to himself and walking with just a bit of a stumble as he digs through his bag, looking for his key, maybe. Probably went out with his coworkers again, since it’s the weekend, since he was off doing normal things while Connor was busy fucking his life all to hell. Burning fucking bodies in the goddamn woods. 

Connor stares at him and clenches his jaw as his vision blurs with tears. He wishes the hollow feeling would come back because it’s so much better than this heavy weight in his chest. He should have left, he never should have come in the first place, should never have dragged this nightmare of a situation up to Oliver’s front door like the selfish bastard that he is. Curling tight on himself, Connor pressed his face to his knees and clamped his teeth around a wet sob. 

“Oh my god.” There’s a sharp clinking as keys hit the floor and warm arms curl around him. “Connor, oh god, what happened? What’s wrong?”

It makes him want to laugh, but he’s not sure he’ll be able to make it stop once he starts, so he grits out another hideous sob and clutches his own arms hard enough to bruise. What’s wrong? He couldn’t even start to explain if he wanted to. Everything was wrong.

Warm lips press a dry kiss to his temple and Oliver holds him tight, smelling like warmth and cocktails and rocking slightly back and forth. “Let’s get inside, okay?”

Connor slowly uncurls, letting Oliver help him up and when Oliver opens the door and holds out his hand for Connor to take, he feels lost. He stares at the hand, imagines a world of misfortune in the lines of Oliver’s palm, and knows he should leave. 

He takes Oliver’s hand and follows him in.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and claim nothing but the idea and arrangement of words to make up this story. How To Get Away With Murder belongs to it's respective ownerships and standard disclaimers apply.


End file.
